


half of something else

by orphan_account



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"taekwoon was the staple between hongbin and jaehwan, the last piece that kept them all together; only now if felt they weren't together at all, that some immense weight had shifted between them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	half of something else

**Author's Note:**

> [[song inspiration](https://soundcloud.com/solfoafp/pray)]

_you closed the doors in our house politely_  
_like someone who isn't well versed_  
_in life_

 

 

Jaehwan was wearing the Ralph Lauren tie with miniature sailboats on it, navy blue and soft as silk—the tie Taekwoon loved so much; and he was adjusting it, loosening it, while simultaneously slipping his hand into Taekwoon's own. Hongbin watched the ground, tried to ignore this; smoothed out his own tie—a plain black one that Taekwoon never said he loved, but always pulled him by. It was one of the only reasons Hongbin wore a tie anymore.

 

He could remember the evenings Jaehwan spent teaching him how to dress nicely, to press his shirts and roll his sleeves evenly; and if he thought really hard—which he tried not to anymore—he could remember the many times Jaehwan pressed kisses to the corner of his mouth as he helped Hongbin tuck his shirt in, how soft his lips were; breath hitched and uneven whenever Hongbin touched his hair, pulled on it. It'd been months since the two of them were alone: never silence between them, always laughter; watching terrible American movies in the dark quiet of their dorm as Taekwoon studied in his own, never upset by being left out, because really, Taekwoon never  _was_ left out. He was the staple between Hongbin and Jaehwan, the last piece that kept them all together; only now if felt they weren't together at all, that some immense weight had shifted between them—and Hongbin knew it was his own doing, that if he truly wanted the distance repaired all he had to do was lean over—he could do it now if he wanted to—and kiss Jaehwan's mouth with the passion he used to have, but it was burned out now; all of it: burned out.

 

Taekwoon had a copy of  _Norwegian Wood_ in his lap, and he was sat on the bench with his legs crossed; mouth moving soundlessly over words neither Hongbin nor Jaehwan could hear, but his hand—large, slender; pale as the rest of him—was deftly touching Jaehwan's hair. He was petting him on the back of his neck, eyes never leaving the book; and for this reason—to see him moving so thoughtlessly, as if it was engraved in him—made Hongbin's stomach hurt. He would touch Hongbin too, would play with his hair too, if Hongbin asked him to. But sat with his knees pulled to his body, fingers filthy with dirt as he plucked at the dying grass, Hongbin made no efforts for affection.

 

'I have to go to rehearsals,' Jaehwan said. He was speaking to them both but only Hongbin was paying attention. 'Do you wanna come along,' and he reached over and touched Hongbin's hand. It was a timid touch as if he knew Hongbin didn't want to be touched, but still: Hongbin curled his fingers around Jaehwan's own.

 

He shook his head, said: 'I have to go study for the mid-term.'

 

'Don't study too much, huh? You've been doing that, like, all day every day.' If Jaehwan had any idea it was an excuse not to be alone with him, he showed no signs. Hongbin didn't believe he was so clueless.

 

And: climbing to his feet, brushing the seat of his pants off, he continued to adjust his tie. He leaned in and kissed Taekwoon's forehead, told him when he asked where he was going: ' _Rehearsals_ . I just said.'

 

Taekwoon smiled. 'Have fun.'

 

'You don't wanna come along?' Weight shifted on his right leg, he pouted playfully; Hongbin turned away.

 

'I need to finish my book. Maybe Bin-ah will go.'

 

'No, he has to study. Weren't you  _listening_ ?' He laughed at something Hongbin didn't catch, and fell silent; maybe they were kissing goodbye. Hongbin didn't check to see. 'I'll see you both tonight?'

 

Subtle nod, and Taekwoon's spoken answer: 'Yeah. Just come by when you're done.'

 

'You both really suck, hope you know that.' Then he was gone, jogging across campus with his tie over his shoulder, wind blown hair: looking like someone out of a movie, both beautiful and heartbreaking.

 

Taekwoon muttered, 'He needs a tie clip,' then started to read again, but only for a second. He was staring at Hongbin, unasked questions all over his face. Then, softly: 'Why didn't you go? You already studied today.'

 

'I don't feel like it.'

 

'What do you feel like, then?'

 

Hongbin collapsed on his back, never mind the frost on the lawn seeping through his dress shirt. 'Awful,' he said, but Taekwoon didn't hear him.

 

-

 

They were in Taekwoon's dorm, in his bed; Hongbin on his back with his legs spread, and Taekwoon down low between his thighs with his cock in his mouth. It was the second time that day they'd fallen into bed, and the third time Taekwoon touched him; always touching, it was the easiest way to feel as if it was only them. When Jaehwan was busy—often at rehearsals or sifting through unshelved books in the library—Hongbin would slip into Taekwoon's room, crawl into his lap and demand attention; and when it was this quiet, when the blinds were closed and the curtains still—all of the world blocked out by a closed door and dimmed lights—Hongbin would pretend Taekwoon was his, and his alone. He'd fist the sheets—as he did now—and arch his back, let his thighs tremble freely and all the built up filth and frustration fall from his mouth in waves. He'd beg to be fucked, to be held; whine until Taekwoon gave him what he wanted, and only then could he say he was blissfully happy. Numb to everything.

 

He had two hands in Taekwoon's hair and a head full of air. His hips bucked and his toes curled; he let Taekwoon lift him off the bed and put his tongue inside him, let him squeeze his thighs until red finger marks were left behind. He didn't fuck Hongbin often, not with his cock, only his mouth, his hands; he'd touch him until Hongbin lay in a whimpering mess on wet sheets with his hair matted to his neck and his whole body shaking. It was only when it was the three of them alone did Taekwoon give himself wholly, never only them—never only to Hongbin. And as he worked his hands into Hongbin now, his own sounds—though small—filtering through silence, Hongbin allowed himself to melt; heart like a burning star, burning hard, burning  _him_ . He pushed his hips back and felt his body explode; head: empty, body: spent.

 

And lying on warm sheets with Taekwoon curled around him, kissing his neck, his face; nuzzling into the back of Hongbin's hair: the pain returned. It came gradually, as if creeping into him, pretending to not exist only to sneak up on him and fill him whole. Misery, so much of it; he hugged Taekwoon hard and didn't let go.

 

-

 

'Will you tell me what's wrong?' Taekwoon asked. They were in the house kitchen, early morning; Jaehwan had left to take a shower, had kissed them both but had lingered longer around Hongbin as if waiting for something—maybe wanting to hug him a little harder. But Hongbin had only glanced at him, smiled with half of his mouth.

 

'Nothing's wrong.'

 

'You don't have to tell me,' Taekwoon said gently, 'but please don't lie to me.'

 

He felt caught. Sudden glance up from his coffee and his chin trembling without his permission; he quickly stared at his feet, at his shoes, leather shoes; a pair Taekwoon had bought him for Christmas last year. They were Dior. He never noticed his cheeks were wet.

 

Then: Taekwoon, crouched beside him, touching his face. He took Hongbin's hand into his own and kissed his fingers, said, 'I'm sorry, Bin-ah. I didn't mean— I'm not—'  _not what_ ?

 

He kissed Hongbin's mouth, pushed his face into Hongbin's neck; he held him hard and helplessly as if he didn't know what to do. It would later occur to Hongbin that Taekwoon  _never_ knew what to do.

 

'I don't know what's wrong,' Hongbin said in a voice so steady even he was surprised. Hard sniff and a wipe at his eyes with the back of his shirtsleeve. 'I don't know what to do.'

 

'What is it? Tell hyung. Do I— what do you need?'

 

_You_ . 'Nothing.'

 

'Are you sure?'

 

_No_ . 'Yes.'

 

'Bin-ah.'

 

'I'm  _sorry,_ ' he hung his head. Sweaty palms gripping his coffee mug; hot against his skin, but he didn't care.

 

'For what?'

 

'I don't  _know—_ ' air pushed from his lungs as Taekwoon pulled him to his feet, hugged him hard with both arms wound around Hongbin's middle.

 

'Do you want to lie down? We can go back to bed. We can lay down for a little while longer —it's okay,' he said quickly when Hongbin tried to interrupt. 'It's okay, we can miss our morning classes. I don't care. Let me, let me take care of you, Bin-ah.  _Please_ .'

 

So: back to the dorm with the sun blocked out. Taekwoon left the door unlocked. He didn't have to say it was for Jaehwan, Hongbin already knew. Then into bed with the covers kicked to the floor and their shirts left on the ironing board—no need to ruin freshly pressed cotton. Taekwoon: in his undershirt, Hongbin: in nothing; they laid with their chests together and their legs entwined. Only them. But only for now.

 

-

 

Jaehwan had his shoes kicked off under the bed and one arm pillowed under his head. New copy of  _GQ_ open on his chest, he'd been thumbing through it but now laid talking to Hongbin who was watching the ceiling.

 

'I'm kinda nervous,' he said, 'about opening night. I know it's, like, three weeks away, but that's not.. that long from now.'

 

Hongbin looked at him, felt guilt wind itself so tightly about his heart he thought he'd be sick. 'Jaehwan-ah.'

 

'I  _know_ . I worry too much. Hyung already said that. I know, I know.'

 

'No—' and touching his face. The words died in his mouth before they were fully formed.

 

'No what, Hongbin?' Eager eyes, voice soft as cotton. He was closer now, pushing himself through the wide space between them; and it was difficult to endure: Jaehwan, putting his hands on Hongbin's chest, his eyes wide and wet and emotional—waiting,  _waiting_ , but he wouldn't get what he so obviously wanted.

 

'You'll do well,' Hongbin said and took his hand away. 

 

'Binnie?'

 

'Yeah.'

 

'Why don't you love me anymore?'

 

A crushing weight so painfully felt; Hongbin's eyes welled with tears. He wouldn't have looked Jaehwan in the eye if he felt it was something he could avoid, but lying there in Jaehwan's bed, the television playing a drama neither of them watched, Hongbin didn't know where he  _could_ look. So he stared hard, stared at Jaehwan until his eyes dried; and he had nothing to say, so he touched him instead—touched him for the first time in a long time, and felt his heart gallop into his mouth.

 

'I—' 

 

'Did I do something wrong?'

 

Hongbin shook his head hard, instinctively curled a hand around Jaehwan's waist. He pulled him hard and close and into his chest like he meant it—and for this second: he really did. Arms and legs wrapped about Jaehwan in a way so desperately it embarrassed him, but he didn't let go; only held harder as Jaehwan kissed him. And he kissed deeply, as if trying to push whatever feeling was lost back into his mouth, but it didn't work. Had he really thought it would?

 

'Does Taekwoon know?' he asked when Hongbin pulled away, when the space was once again set between them.

 

It was useless to pretend not to know what Jaehwan was talking about; painfully unfair, so Hongbin only shook his head. Told him, 'No.'

 

Here: something like relief in Jaehwan's eyes. His voice shook as he said, 'Don't tell him. Not yet anyway. Just— don't tell him.'

 

Hongbin looked at the ceiling and swallowed hard. 'I won't.'

 

-

 

Jaehwan had been at rehearsals all evening and though Taekwoon could have been his for the day, Hongbin instead stayed in the library and tried to find the newest Donna Tartt novel, but it was checked out; so he looked for something by Charles Dickens, but nothing sounded right, interesting, everything: futile; and that's how Hongbin later found himself at the back of the library, sat by the Contemporary Art portfolios with his knees to his chest and his arms around his legs; forehead pressed to his knees, feeling weak and terrible and not knowing how to fix it.

 

Taekwoon texted him, asked him to come over; and he was a little scared, a little nervous; wondered: had Jaehwan said anything. So he took the long route and cut through the courtyard, lingered in the house kitchen with a bottle of Evian water he'd found in the fridge. He could buy another, replace it tomorrow, though he'd probably forget by morning—who cared anyway.

 

Then: in the stairwell that lead to Taekwoon's hallway. It was an emergency exit, but he took it anyway; locked between large walls and never ending staircases. No sound, nothing at all; it was as if the world had died and he was left alone to drown in it. But as he made his way up, hand gripping the railing as if his life depended on it, he could hear: voices, familiar ones; and it was as he came closer—walking lightly, he didn't want to be heard—he realized it was Taekwoon. He was talking with Jaehwan. Hushed words, but easily heard in stark silence.

 

'You can't quit,' Taekwoon was saying. 'You've worked so hard, Jaehwan-ah. You're gonna be  _fine_ .'

 

'I'm so fucking nervous, hyung—' and his voice was weak, timid. Cut off as he tried to say more, and Hongbin could imagine how Taekwoon was holding him, how he was kissing Jaehwan's mouth and touching his neck. 

 

'I love you,' Taekwoon said. 'I love you, you'll do fine. Bin-ah and I will be there. You'll do  _fine_ .'

 

They talked a little more, but Hongbin stopped listening. He was sat on a step some levels down, sat with his fingers picking at the tile. It wasn't until the door opened, loud creak of hinges, and the slam of it coming closed that he climbed to his feet and went back to his own dorm.

 

-

 

It was the evening of opening night; Jaehwan, lost somewhere on campus with his head full of words, wasn't answering his phone, was probably too nervous to do anything until the show began.

 

Hongbin had skipped his last class and let himself into Taekwoon's room, and sitting with Taekwoon now with his shirt off and his blood boiling, he begged, and he begged; whined so loudly to be touched he was almost ashamed. Taekwoon never would have fucked him, not ordinarily, but there must have been something on Hongbin's face that told him how badly he needed it. It'd been weeks since the three of them were in bed together. He often wondered if Taekwoon slept with Jaehwan when he wasn't around.

 

Straddling Taekwoon's lap with his hands in his hair, Hongbin ground his hips against him; he breathed into Taekwoon's mouth, whimpered against his lips. He whispered—despairingly, 'Say it. Please, hyung, say it—' and when he didn't, he choked on his own words.

 

'Bin-ah,  _please_ . Tell me what's  _wrong_ ,' and he sounded scared; voice sharp with emotion that made Hongbin's heart leap. But what could he tell him?

 

'I just wanna hear you say it.'

 

Taekwoon shifted between his legs, pushed Hongbin on his back; and with his hands on his hips, body aligned with Hongbin's own, he whispered, 'I love you.'

 

'Again,' whining now.

 

'I love you,' he said—desperately, as if maybe he'd cry. And he said it again, again; said it every time his hips connected with Hongbin's own, said it in a voice so weak, sounding awful, broken. He buried his face into Hongbin's neck and mouthed at his pulse, said  _I love you_ as his thrusts came harder, deeper.

 

Hongbin, with his legs around Taekwoon's hips, was pushed across the mattress until he was half off the bed with a hand in his hair and neck arched. Eyes wet behind closed lids, he whimpered loudly, and couldn't stop himself before asking: 'Do you love only me?' and he was crying now; ashamed with himself. Arm thrown over his eyes to hide himself from Taekwoon who had stopped moving, full body still between Hongbin's legs.

 

'Bin-ah...'

 

Crying hard, faint and tired; Hongbin pushed Taekwoon away, curled in on himself and tried to be small. He didn't fight when Taekwoon pulled him closer; let it happen as Taekwoon wrapped his body around him.

 

'Hongbin.'

 

'I love you.'

 

'I love you too.'

 

Faintly, 'You love Jaehwan.'

 

'I love you both.'

 

Hongbin didn't know what to say to that, thought: he'd never know; so he let Taekwoon hold him, and kiss his neck. He let Taekwoon crawl between his legs, and push away what pain he could, but it wasn't a lot—not even half. But if he closed his eyes—which he did—and focused on Taekwoon's hands, felt not with his body, not his mind, but something much deeper—his heart? maybe—he could pretend again that it was only them. As Taekwoon breathed soft  _I love you_ 's into his hair, he could trick himself into thinking they were words for his ears alone.

 


End file.
